


It Takes Courage

by fencingfox



Series: This October Night [9]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Fictober 2019, Flirting, Inktober 2019, Kinktober 2019, Prison, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: B'Elanna + Tom + Alcohol + Bar Brute = Prison





	It Takes Courage

**Author's Note:**

> bIHnuch -> coward  
HuH -> slime

* * *

**| "There is a certain taste to it." | shackled | hair pulling | swing |**

* * *

"Fuck." B'Elanna snorts at Tom. He's sitting across from her in the grungy prison cell. When he swore, he'd hit his head to the cement wall and tensed his hands in front of his chest. They land on his blood-spattered uniform pants. Not that she can see the blood at this distance on the black fabric, she's just certain it's there. His pants, like her own, are wrinkly and coated in a fine gray-white dust that reminds B'Elanna of skeletons. The prison cell is a bit cold, and she wishes she'd decided to wear her entire uniform. She'd worn the pants because black goes with everything, but she'd opted for a half-sleeved cream turtleneck that she likes. 

"No kidding." B'Elanna shifts her left leg—her right is shackled on a long chain to the wall at her back—so she can nudge his shackled foot with her free one. The shackles seem like overkill to her. They're already behind bars are they not? Tom looks up at her when their feet collide. "Next time, watch what you say." He blubbers at her. 

"What—What _I_ say? What about _you_? Or should I go ask that 'soft-skinned piece of shit who isn't even worth the title of _petaQ_'?" He has her there. 

"What makes you think I wasn't calling _you_ a soft-skinned piece of shit?" He looks stunned. 

"You were chest to chest with that guy! And unless you're here to tell me you were trying to kiss him," she scoffs. No _way_ she'd kiss that brute, alcohol or not. "I won't believe you meant that for me." After that little speech, he groans and digs his palms into his eyes at the same time. B'Elanna winces; he'll get skeleton dust in his eyes that way. She blinks her eyes sympathetically. "I _don't_ want to fight. Bad enough I'm locked in here," there is a pause like he'd stopped himself from adding 'with you', "when I should be enjoying my shore leave." She crosses her arms protectively, aggressively. 

"Well I'm _sorry_ you can't hold up your end of a fight, _bIHnuch_." He glowers at her and responds in a low, threatening voice. 

"One of these days, B'Elanna, I'll show you just how well I can hold my end of a fight." It doesn't entirely sound like a threat. She growls without thinking. 

"Careful Paris, a girl might get ideas." His eyes widen by a hair, then he refocuses them. He shifts his foot so it rests on the inside of her ankle. His other foot was already there. It isn't like her legs are splayed, but they may as well be for the blood pounding behind her ears and between her legs. He smirks with a twinkle in his eye. 

"Maybe that's the idea." Their eyes lock while he waits for her next move. B'Elanna's chain is probably long enough to reach him. At the very least, they can meet in the middle. She's sure that if she stands, he'll stand too. The fact that they are in a prison cell together doesn't factor into her equations. It isn't her fault the natives can't tell a human male from a half-human, half-Klingon female and put them in the same cell together. Maybe they'd be helping them learn. She growls, fully intending to tackle Tom to the cold cement. _He_ can lay on the hard ground. Before she can move toward him, however, the bars rattle and two trays slide inside. Tom's reaches his butt, but hers is still within arms reach of the guard. 

He's a big man—she thinks; she can't tell them apart either. They did come in roughly two sizes though. His silhouette seems to take the space of double Tom's and he's even a bit taller than Tom who she actually thinks might be the tallest person on _Voyager_. She's wary to approach the food. She'd caught the guards roughing up a few of the other inmates. They seemed to enjoy it. She isn't the smallest on _Voyager_—that title belongs to Kes—but she will be downright puny next to the alien. 

"Eat." The alien commands gruffly—probably male. B'Elanna hands him her most threatening glare, the one she suspects even the stoic Vorik has nightmares of. 

"Slide it closer." He sneers, an expression not unlike Tom's but with infinitely more malice—definitely male. He pulls the tray a little closer to himself with a booted foot. She isn't cowardly but she's worried. A Klingon man would tower over her a good foot and could probably lift two women her size and not be tired. She suspects this man towers a good foot and a half above her and can probably lift two _Klingon men_ over his head one-handed. 

"Come get it, _sweet thing_." To borrow Tom's phrase: _fuck._ She's in trouble. She'd heard someone call a prisoner that just before that prisoner's screams and the crack of a whip tore through the air. She glances at Tom. He gestures to his plate to suggest sharing, but their _hosts_ don't seem to believe much in prisoners who can fight back, the cowards. His plate has only half a roll of bread and a measly helping of grey snot. Besides, she isn't about to let this spineless _HuH_ frighten her. 

B'Elanna stands slowly as the man watches her rise. Her chain rattles. Even if they can't tell a woman from a man, they do seem to favor smaller prisoners for torture. She rises to her full five foot five inches and puffs her chest for good measure. She takes slow steps to the tray and as a show of courage, doesn't immediately grab it and run. He seems impressed, if the schooled features can convey such a thing. His hand reaches through the bars lightning fast and he pulls her hair so her face presses to the bars. B'Elanna winces, but forces down a yell. She won't give him the satisfaction. He talks close to her ear on the side where Tom can see. It's probably intended as a taunt. 

"I'll keep you nice and safe, prisoner." His slurring tone doesn't sound safe. It raises the hairs on her neck. "You've got a moxy I _like_." She expects him to force a kiss on her, maybe more. She detests the idea and tries to pull back, not caring if a chunk of her scalp goes with him. Before she rends flesh, she feels the alien jerk back and release her hair with a wail. She stumbles, remembers her tray, and dashes to pull it to a safe distance before the alien can recover. Tom's shaking out his right hand. 

"Back _off_ bastard!" The alien glares back but doesn't bother saying anything. B'Elanna wonders if getting blind sighted by a prisoner is grounds for a dismissal. She hopes so. Tom grabs his tray awkwardly. B'Elanna would be surprised if he didn't break his hand just now. He maneuvers so he can sit beside her. She realizes with a faint stirring that the chains are indeed long enough. 

"Did you take a swing at him?" The answer's obvious, but she needs a distraction. She considers herself brave, but not brave enough to try the food. She's glad her scalp still hurts. It gives her something to focus on other than Tom's body beside hers. He snorts. 

"Yeah, kinda wished I hadn't. His face is _hard_." He winces when he sets his right hand on his thigh farthest from her. She'll have to use her left hand if she doesn't want to bump him but he likely doesn't have the ability to use his outside hand. She pauses to think of a response. She could reprimand him for his help. She probably should. She nods instead. 

"Thanks." He seems surprised by that. 

"Uh, you're welcome." 

"How's the snot?" He looks at her sideways. 

"The what?" She points with her outside hand to the central compartment on the tray. 

"The grey stuff: snot." 

"There is a certain," he takes a moment to think, "taste to it." 

"That doesn't sound promising." He shrugs. 

"It isn't worse than Neelix's cooking." 

"But?" He smirks and looks at her. 

"It isn't any better." 

"Wish I had something better to eat," she grumbles as she pushes a grey lump around her plate trying to guess what it is. Chicken? Fish? Human? She has no idea. Tom huffs. 

"Well, _I'm_ right here. Take a bite if you like." Is it bad that his line is probably the best Klingon pick up she's heard? And she's heard a lot. She stabs the grey lump. It slips away from her fork and she aims again. 

"So you had an ulterior motive to punching him?" Her voice is defensive, but she's genuinely curious. 

"In my defense, he'd interrupted something," Tom replies suggestively. He's right. B'Elanna stuffs her forkful into her mouth to quell her desire to _actually_ bite Tom. He makes a good offer; might make a good meal. When she takes in another mouthful instead of responding, Tom continues. "We had a guard like him back at Auckland." B'Elanna realizes the 'him' he's talking about is the guard he'd punched. "Pure scum. Lowest of the low. I don't know why he wasn't an inmate himself." 

"I knew a Cardassian guard like him. He never did anything like that to me. Half-Klingons aren't pretty. But he'd manhandled a lot of Bajorans. I kicked him in the groin one time at lunch when he'd gotten a little too handsy with a girl who was barely eighteen." 

"You?" He looks at her with shock. "You were in prison?" 

"That surprises you?" She tears off a chunk of bread. 

"You don't seem the type." 

"The type? Is it because I'm not a hardened criminal like you?" That's a mistake. B'Elanna sees his eyes glance worrying down and then back up quickly but not quick enough. She uses all of her will-power not to look down too. She doesn't know if he's hard. She doesn't want to know, not if she's going to keep her distance right now. "Nevermind." They fall silent while they finish their meal. After the last slimy bite, B'Elanna is dismayed to find that she's hungrier now than when she started. The meager portion only served to whet her appetite. She sets the tray next to her and leans into the wall. Her scalp still tingles a little. She brings up her hand to rub it. 

"It hurt?" 

"Yeah." 

"Want me to look at it?" 

"No." It isn't that bad. He can't do anything about it anyway. She hears him set down his tray, feels him too. His right hand appears useless so he has to twist his body to set his tray out of the way. Jumping him now would be a bad idea she realizes with a twinge of disappointment. 

"This sucks." 

"Tell me about it." 

"We're in prison for shore leave. My hand's broken. We're both hungry. I'm sitting next to a beautiful woman who's actually interested." Her heart leaps. "And the kicker: there's nothing I can do 'cause my hand's broke." Her stomach stirs. She risks a glance at his groin discreetly. It's tented a little. She finds herself hoping that's because it's been some time and not because he's poorly endowed. It occurs to her that it's his _right_ hand that's broken and she's positive he's right-handed. There really is nothing he can do. 

She should report him for sexual harassment when _Voyager_ picks them up. B'Elanna closes her eyes and takes a breath, intending to call him out on his blatant attempt at sex. Instead, she turns to straddle his hips. The chain rattles against the cement. He lifts his hands to give her space and then just holds them in the air. He seems comically unsure about what to do for a guy who just admitted to being hot for her. She quirks her eyebrow and pivots her hips a touch closer. 

"Well?" 

"Oh, uh," he's looking everywhere but her face. "What do you want me to do?" His eyes finally settle on her lips, then dart to her eyes. She grins when their eyes meet. 

"Bite me." His whole expression changes. He wraps his good hand around her waist and the bad one behind her back without actually holding her there. She's pulled forward and her heart pounds. 

"Gladly." Instead of kissing her, he nibbles on her lower lip. She moans softly and Tom takes her invitation to kiss her. But she irrationally wants him to bite her, so she breaks away and digs her teeth into his left cheek. She quiets her Klingon worry about becoming mates by pointing out that she doesn't plan on saying the Oath. He hisses when she bites down, but she'd felt his penis jump under her. She grinds her hips as she suckles at his blood, very pleased with his reaction. His penis jumps again. She releases him. He kisses up her neck. His quick breaths push aside short strands of her hair. His teeth latch onto her left cheek and she sees white as he digs in. Her face throbs around his mouth but she feels so balanced. He pulls away when her blood stops flowing from her face and kisses her. 

"Lieutenants." B'Elanna jumps off from Tom to his left side so she can face the bars. She nearly trips on her own legs in the process. The Captain looks down at them with both hands on her hips and an entertained expression. "Enjoying your shore leave I take it?" There's a hint of amusement in her voice as well. Is she serious? 

"Uh." 

"Yes actually, Captain." Tom talks over her. B'Elanna looks at him. How can he be so relaxed? He holds up his maimed hand. "B'Elanna broke my hand though." The Captain raises her eyebrows and her eyes shift to B'Elanna. 

"Not your collarbone?" Tom looks innocent. 

"No." Now he smirks. "But we'd barely started." B'Elanna kicks Tom's calf. Not enough to actually hurt him, just enough to get his attention. What exactly compelled her to challenge him anyway? 

"I did _not_ break your hand," she hisses, "you punched that guard who—" B'Elanna looks sheepishly at the Captain, cutting herself off. The Captain looks a little more serious. 

"The guard who?" 

"The guard who wanted to make B'Elanna his _personal_ prisoner," Tom's voice is menacing. Not like when he'd threatened her earlier, no. This is real malice. It chills her spine but also gives her a sense of security and pride. The Captain stiffens, but she doesn't respond beyond that. As a Federation ship, _Voyager_ has a duty to follow the laws and punishments of whatever culture they find themselves. Far be it from the Captain to start an incident over one guard who can't keep it in his pants when B'Elanna is no longer in danger. The Captain deftly calls over a guard—a different one. B'Elanna wonders if the one who'd brought them dinner is nursing a black eye. She hadn't exactly seen where Tom hit him, but she'd been in enough skirmishes to know that the best target is usually an eye or a nose. The guard unlocks their cell and their shackles. The Captain helps Tom to his feet since he doesn't have the leverage with one hand to pull himself up. When he's standing, she taps her commbadge. 

"Three to beam up." The Captain offers to walk them to Sick Bay, but they both refuse at the same time. She gives them a look, likely wondering if the prison cell was a first for them. But she leaves without another word. Tom cradles his hand to his chest. B'Elanna's very aware of the sting at her cheek. Whenever a crew member passes, she turns her head away or lifts her hand to hide it. Tom doesn't say anything to her for the entire walk to Sick Bay. 

Kes greets B'Elanna because she's less injured. The Doctor takes Tom. Kes starts to lead B'Elanna to the bed beside Tom's but B'Elanna feigns inattentiveness and strides to the partially secluded surgical bay. She hops onto the bed before Kes can protest. Kes scans her with a medical tricorder carefully. B'Elanna watches her walk a half-circle around her with her hand moving up and down a few inches away. 

"Everything looks good," she smiles and puts the tricorder sensor into its housing at the back of the tricorder. B'Elanna taps her marked cheek self-consciously. 

"What about this?" Kes beams. 

"I wasn't going to say anything because I wasn't sure if I it's appropriate. But since you brought it up, congratulations!" She sounds genuinely happy. It makes B'Elanna uneasy. 

"Can you remove it?" Kes's face falls and B'Elanna feels sorry for dashing her happiness. She half wants to take it back. Say, 'nevermind, and if you'll excuse me, Tom and I are gonna fuck now; we'll be back in nine months'. 

"I can." She fetches the dermal regenerator and holds it over B'Elanna's face but doesn't turn it on. "Are you sure?" B'Elanna nods. A few minutes later, the air no longer stings her. 

"Thank you," she says quietly as she slides off the biobed. She almost manages to leave Sick Bay entirely before Tom catches up to her. Her eyes burn on his cheek. He still wears her mark. He waves with his healed hand. 

"Good as new." He stops in front of her. "Dinner?" He spots her disappointment and chuckles. "Don't worry, I'll let you break it if you want," he jokes. When her mood doesn't improve, he tries again, running his hand through his hair. "Uh, we don't have to do dinner," he looks up under his eyelashes. "Maybe breakfast tomorrow?" She's unresponsive, still stunned into silence. How could he think any of that was real? Granted, she might have been fooled if the Captain hadn't shown up then. If they'd gotten a bit further. He searches her eyes for answers and she watches him realize she'd been healed. His hand shoots to his cheek. 

"Oh." He looks crestfallen. She looks at the floor. It shocks her that he didn't look like a guy who was just going for her in the moment. "I thought I wasn't supposed to heal it." 

"Not normally," she tells her feet. They're still covered in skeleton dust. She needs a shower and a change of clothing. 

"But?" 

"But that wasn't normal." 

"Ah. I see." She hears his footsteps retreat but she doesn't leave. "Doc, one more thing." She hears the hum of a dermal regenerator and feels a little crestfallen herself. He'd been willing to wear her mark on a ship of humans who would probably snicker about it behind his back day in and day out. She's the _bIHnuch_. B'Elanna clenches her fists at the realization. She looks up, steel in her eyes. When Tom comes close, he tries again. "Dinner?" 

"No." She lets her lips quirk up, but really it's all nerves. "I'm hungry for something else." She'll return her mark to him and she'll wear his...but maybe somewhere less conspicuous for the both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wondered if it was canon that they marked each other? I'm betting it's on their respective asses. You can't see that even in Neelix's resort program!


End file.
